


What's Behind The Stars

by meghansheeran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Basically Harry is in the military, It's kind of sad, Louis is waiting for him to return home from war, M/M, Solider Styles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meghansheeran/pseuds/meghansheeran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry left Louis twice, but he only came back once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

3rd Person POV

“Harry” Louis said.

Silence.

“Harry” he said, with more strain in his voice

Still, silence.

“Harry, please” he pleaded.

But he was replied to with silence,

Not a calming silence that gives you time to think or clear your head. But a silence that was deafening. Not by noise or sound, but by the uncertainty of what it held. The dull aching thud in the pit of tightness in Louis chest was the only reminder that it wasn’t a dream. You couldn’t hurt in a dream. And Louis was certain he had never felt such an intense throbbing pain.

He wanted it to be a dream, though.

He wanted, so badly, for the events of the past 24 hours, to never have occurred. He wanted to wake up and reach a shaky arm across to the other side of the bed, and find the warm pale skin of the boy he looked on so fondly. He wanted to run he fingers through the boy’s hair and leave traces through the brown, curly mass. He craved the steady, constant beat of the boy’s heart was Harry’s chest was pressed against his own. The soft jade that melted into a sea of emerald, that made up Harry’s iris was permanently etched into Louis’ mind.

He wanted- no- he needed to see them again, right now. He needed to see Harry’s eyelashes flutter open, even if only for a moment, and for a hint of the captivating green to shine through. He needed that, to show him that Harry’s eyes to show him that there was a glimmer of hope. That he hadn’t given up. That he was still fighting.

Harry wanted that too, more than anything. He wanted to jump out of this hospital bed and into Louis’ arms. And he wanted to wipe away all of Louis’ tears and tell him that he could hear him.

But he could not.

He lay on the hospital bed, eyes shut, completely motionless. He felt like a prisoner in his own skin. And the sounds of Louis’ soft cries echoing off the walls of the tiny room, just shattered Harry to pieces.

Louis. His Louis was practically sitting in a puddle of his own tears. And there wasn’t a thing Harry could do to console him. So he did what he could do.

He listened.

“Please, Harry. Wake up. For me… for your Lou.” Louis’ voice caught at the end of his sentence and hot tears began to cascade down his cheeks.

With each soft thud of a tear pounding against the hospital tile, harry felt his heart sink a bit lower. He was the one who caused Louis so much pain. He was the reason for the tears. And while the thought of Louis caring so much about him made Harry’s chest flutter, he couldn’t escape the hollow feeling as someone as perfect as Louis harboring such dark, tearful feelings.

For a moment, Harry is glad he couldn’t see. Because he didn’t think that he would be able to bear seeing Louis looking so broken.

The handful of times Harry had witnessed were proof enough, that Louis crying was one of the most Earth shattering sights he had ever seen. When his eyes were glassed over and burning red, and his hands were shaking and grabbing wildly at his matted hair and when he screamed and yelled and his whole body would shakes with loud, heavy sobs. It gutted Harry.

Louis was always so happy and carefree and so strong that it was hard to picture him crying unless you had seen it firsthand. And Harry had. Se he knew. And so his current loss of sight seemed a minuscule less useless than it had before.

But his thankfulness stopped there.

He couldn’t move any part of his body, which meant that he couldn’t give any indication of his current state. But he could hear. He could hear Louis’ pain. And it hurt Harry to hear Louis hurting. In that moment Harry would have gladly endured any kind of physical pain, even torture, to relieve the spinning mess occurring inside of his head,

But Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of chair sliding across the hospital tile.

Louis got up from his chair and walked closer to the hospital bed where Harry lay. Very slowly and very carefully Louis inched his hand towards Harry’s. Louis shuttered at how cold Harry’s skin was against his own. Harry’s skin itself was pale, so very pale. Much more pale than usual, it now looked a sickly white color, like all the warmth had been sucked out of him.

Despite the cold, Louis laced his fingers with Harry’s stiff cold one, and he squeezed them. Not too firmly, but enough to cause the corner of Louis’ mouth to up turn at the sight. The fraction of s mile was quickly replaced though, with a frown, when he realized that Harry wasn’t able to squeeze back.

Though it sounds mental, Louis had, had a tiny hope that maybe his touch could wake Harry from his deep slumber. He hoped that maybe Harry’s eyes would shoot open and see Louis standing over him. Then they would both cry together and taste salty tears as their lips touched.

But none of that happened. Harry’s eyes didn't open. No kisses were shared.

Suddenly, Louis felt foolish for thinking such a thing and he released Harry’s hand and he watched as it fell back against Harry’s side.

Of course Harry hadn’t woken up, he was in a coma. There’s no way that Louis’ touch could possibly pull him out of that. It just wasn’t possible. Harry probably hadn’t felt a thing.

But he did. He felt the simple gesture everywhere, all over his body. Louis’ touch sent shock waves through Harry’s veins and the way the way into his bones. He craved it, longed for it, more than he could ever express in words. He wanted Louis to touch him everywhere. He tried to imagine Louis’ hands roaming all over his body, weaving through his hair, or simply holding his hand, as he had done moments before. But his imagination failed to create anything that compared to Louis’ warmth.

So when Louis unlaced his fingers from Harry’s, Harry felt Louis take of his warmth with him.

The absence of heat and the crippling cold that cold that followed, brought on a new wave of loneliness. And Harry was drowning in it.

He tried to scream, he tried to cry, he tried to yell from Louis to come back.

But again, all he could do was listen. So that’s what he did. But when Louis’ muffled sobs filled the room, he wished that he couldn't even do that.

He heard Louis shuffle back to his seat and mutter something that sounded like

“Why, Harry. Why?”

And that’s when the realization and guilt set in. Everything that happened in the past 24 hours had been brewing for months.

 

And absolutely all of it was Harry’s fault.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis' POV

"He talked of you all the time, Louis." Anne said. 

I nodded but continued to look down at Harry.

" He would tell me about all the things you did together> He told me how happy you two were"

I looked up a bit too quickly.

"Were?" I asked Anne through blinking, tear coated lashes.

"Oh hun, I didn't mean that in that way" she crossed around Harry's bed and over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"S'fine" I tired to brush her off but Anne remained by my side.

"He loves you, Louis"

"He's got quite a funny way of showing it" I try to laugh but the air in my lungs is dry.

Anne shifted her gaze from me to Harry.

"I don't someone's ever looked so fondly on another person, the way that my son looks so fondly on you" she said.

I didn't know what to say.

"And I know you love him Louis. You always have.

I knew she was right. Anne was hardly ever wrong when it came to things concerning Harry and I.

"Yeah" I choke out.

I don't want to cry. I absolutely cannot stand to cry, which is why I hardly ever do. But seeing Harry like this? I blink multiple times in a feeble attempt to hold back the moisture forming in my eyes, but it doesn't work.

Anne wraps her arms around my shoulder and tucks my head under he chin. She softly kisses the top of my head and ruffles up my hair a bit, trying to console me.

But the only person who could console me right now is the one who's current state I am grieving over. I wanted his pale, lanky arms to be the ones wrapping around my shoulders.

But I suppose that I don't always get what I want.

Suddenly Anne's touch is too constricting and I find myself shrugging out of her hold. I immediately regret this decision when i see a pained look splashed across her features.

Harry may be the one I love, but he is also Anne's son. I should be the one consoling her right now.

Her son- her baby is in the hospital and I can't focus on anything other than myself long enough to notice that she is hurting too.

I take a few steps towards Anne and place my hand on the small of her back and pull her towards me. She doesn't resist and puts her head on my shoulder, sighing.

"Everything's going to be okay?" I say, more as a question.

Anne pulls away and puts her hands on my shoulders.

"Yes. Harry is a fighter, he always has been."

How can she be so sure, so calm?

"He is going to pull through this. I'm certain"

I hope you're right Anne.

I nod and Anne pulls away to sit down next to Harry. She pushes his hair off of his forehead and trails a finger down his cheek.

Anne smiles down at Harry and lets out a small laugh,

"What" I say.

"I was just remembering..." she trails off, lost in her own thoughts.

I want to ask her what she was remembering but, in this moment, she seems so content, that it would be a sin if I were to crash down the burdens of our reality onto her.

"I was just remembering" she begins again "the first time I met you."

I smile softly.

"When I was a baby" I say.

Anne shakes her head slowly from side to side.

I furrow my eyebrows together.

"But the first time you met me I-"

"No, Louis" she looked back down at Harry "The first time I met you, as my son's boyfriend"

Flashback

"Uggghh" I groan and fling myself on Harry's bed.

" I could sleep for the next 30 years, I swear to God, I fucking hate school." I mumble into his pillow.

Harry laughs as he sits on the pillow next to me.

"C'mon" he pokes my cheek "It wasn't that bad"

I scoff.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Number One in our class"

It's true. Harry is smart, really smart. And I... well I'm just kinda there. I mean I'm not an idiot or anything but I'm nowhere near Harry in terms of grades.

"This is our last year, you only have to stick it out for one year" he says.

I roll over so I'm looking up at Harry and ohmygod, I've never seen him from this angle and he's just so pretty with his stupid little dimples that pop out when he smiles (like he's doing now). And his lips and how they're so pink and pillow and fuck, he's gorgeous.

"You okay Lou? You kinda spaced out there"

Shit.

"No, yeah I'm fine. I was just..." I search for the right world. I doesn't come to me fast enough.

"Admiring me." he says casually, standing up from the bed. He walks over to his dresser and messes with a few of the items cluttered on top of it. 

"What not! I just zoned out!" I stutter out.

"Mhm, sure" he laughs with his back still turned to me.

I can feel my face burn red at his accusations.

"Is it such a crime for me to look at my boyfriend." I mumble under my breath.

Harry looks up at me from the mirror on his dresser. His hair is hanging over his face so i can't see him properly.

"Why are you looking at me" I ask.

Harry runs his tounge over his top lip before he parts them to speak.

"Say that again"

"Why are you looking at-"

"No, before that"

Harry's turned back to me now, staring at me.

'Harry, I don't see what this-"

"You called me your boyfriend"

Oh.

"Well yeah, that's what we are right? Boyfriends?"

I can feel the heat rise to my face so I break eye contact with Harry and turn my attention to a loose thread on Harry's sheets.

"No, yeah. That's not what I meant. It's just that I, erm..."

Harry trails off and I glance up at him. He's blushing now and looking at his feet like they're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

"It's just that..." he begins "No one's every called me that, never been anyone's boyfriend before." he blushes even harder and my heart swells knowing I'm the first (and hopefully last) boyfriend Harry's ever had.

"Yeah?" I choke out. Really? That's the thing I chose to let myself say. Good job, idiot.

"Yeah" Harry smiles a bit and looks up. He seems a bit surprised that I was already looking at him and quickly diverts his eyes to my feet.

An awkward silence falls over the two of us. Harry picks at invisible fuzz of his shirt and I continue to mess with the thread of his sheets.

With each passing second the tension in the air grows until, finally, I can't take it.

I stand up from the bed, causing Harry to snap his head up to look at me.

I roll my eyes but can't fight back a smile at his innocent expression.

"C'mere" I say as I walk towards him.

Harry rushes toward me but stumbles over his feet and crashes into me.

We both fall down back onto his bed.

Harry's POV

"Ah, Jesus Christ, Harry" Louis says.

I can't help but giggle at how distressed he looks.

"Sorry"

"No you're not. And can you please get off of me, I'm getting crushed here"

I rest some of my weight on my forearms, on either side of Louis, but don't get completely off of him.

"I think I'll just stay here" I laugh.

Louis pouts and juts out his bottom lip. He looks so fucking adorable that I want to punch something.

The sunlight from my window in pouring over his face and he looks like something out of a magazine.

He is so beautiful. 

Before he has time to protest I push my lips forward onto his. They're so warm, like pillowy blankets, fresh out of the dryer. 

Louis hesitates at first, but when I nudge my lips against his, he kisses me back.

An oh does he kiss me back.

Something about Louis' kisses just makes my mind cloud and my body go numb. Yeah, they're that good.

I think most of it stems from the fact that is it LOUIS kissing me. Just knowing that it's the little tanned skinned blue eyed boy I swoon for kissing me, just heightens everything. 

So as Louis kisses me, I try my hardest to not let my arms and legs give.

His lips change speed, going from soft and sensual, to heated and passionate. Slowly his lips open and Louis moves his head, so the kiss can deepen.

We kiss deeply, tongues sliding over slicked lips, and whispered moans swallowed by our open mouths. The constant mews slipping from Louis lips are absolutely sinful and send me into some sort of overdrive.

I detach my lips from his and instead dip my head into his neck, pressing wet kisses to the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He's radiating so much heat that I can't focus on anything other than how good his body feels under mine,

We're both so caught up in the literal heat of the moment that we don't notice the door open.

"Harry, dear. Did you say you wanted OH MY GOSH" my mom exclaims.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I propel myself off of Louis and I must have flown back 10 feet. Louis is lying on my bed, his lips so fucking pink and puffy and his eyes are widened looking at Anne. If I wasn't in shock I would probably die at how obscene Louis looks right now.

However, I am in shock.

"I'm sorry I should've knocked, I..." Anne is at a loss for words. As am I.

"Hello, Anne" Louis says, voice shaking. He's known my mom long enough to call her by her first name. But his casual tone doesn't ease any tension in the room. 

"Hello, Love" Anne says, politely. 

"Mom, I can explain. We were-" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"I'll be downstairs making lunch, grilled cheese okay?"

"That'll be fine, thanks" Louis says.

Anne quickly exits the room and I turn around to find Louis biting his bottom lip, failing miserably at trying to stifle a laugh. 

"Why are you laughing" I ask "My mom just walked in on us snogging and you're laughing?!"

Even though I know he's about to break, he still tries his best to hold it in.

"It's not funny" I say, suddenly feeling giggly as well.

Louis loses it and erupts into a fit of laughter.

"Louis!" I yell, or at least try to that is. You see, seeing Louis' eyes go all crinkly when he laughs makes it nearly impossible for me not to join in.

I plop down next to him on the bed as he continues to laugh, I with him.

When our laughing dies down I sit up and pull his head into my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and he leans into my touch. 

My heart kind of melts at that.

"Do you think she suspects anything" Louis asks, giggling some more.

I roll my eyes and push his head off of my lap to stand.

"I'll take that as a yes" Louis says, still giggling his adorable little fucking head off.

"Well, let's go" I grab Louis hand.

His brows pinch together "go where?"

'Downstairs. I want to introduce you to my mother". I say.

"Harry, I've met Anne probably hundreds of times" he says, clearly confused.

"But this time is different"

"How?"

I smile.

"This time I want to introduce you, as my boyfriend."

End of Flashback

"God, that seems like it was just the other day " I say, mostly to myself.

"I know" Anne says "But you were only 18 then, Harry was only 16."

"We were so young, so naive" I mumble.

"So in love for two people who were so young." Anne finishes my sentence for me.

"Yeah, I just can't believe that was four years ago. Four years. So much has changed since then"

My smile fades.

"But, so much has stayed the same." Anne says "Think about, you're still just as in love as you were then. Even more so, actually."

"Anne, how can you be so calm and positive. I don't... I just don't get it" I'm crying again. I can't help it and I don't really care at this point.

"I don't have a choice, Louis" She says sternly. "I'm the mom, I'm the one who stays calm through these types of things."

She says 'these types of things' as if things like this happen all the time. Which I suppose they do. But never to us. Nothing like this was ever supposed to happen to us.

"I stay strong, because I have to. For you, for Harry, for myself. I', being positive because I know that things are going to pan out and be okay again. I'm so much older than you or Harry and I've lived through things like this. I know I can survive." 

Anne has a few tears in her eyes.

"But that's another story for another day. For now I'm going to go grab us a couple coffees. I'll be back soon."

With that Anne walks out of the room, leaving just Harry and I.

I walk back over to the hospital bed and lift up Harry's hand. Despite the cold and I press my lips to the back of his hand and let them linger there for several seconds.

When I finally pull away I place his hand back carefully by his side, lean into his ear and whisper

"Between you and me, I don't think Anne is ever going to get over her walking in on us snogging."

I chuckle a bit at my remark before adding.

'Stay strong, Harry. I love you"

Then I walk out of the hospital room and make my way to the cafeteria in search of Anne and cafenation.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry's POV

They say that when you loose one sense that the others are supposed to become sharper and more advanced. 

As a person who has lost their sight for the time being, I can say this is complete and utter bullshit. 

I can hear the doctors just outside of my door but I can't make out a single word they are saying. I mean, i wasn't expecting to have supersonic hearing but I thought it would become at least a bit better. 

People have been coming in and out of my room constantly all day. Doctors pick and prode at me taking blood samples and vitals. Louis was in here earlier too, but left about 20 minutes ago. Though I can't be sure. 

One of the worst things about this entire ordeal is that I never know what time it is. I can't tell if it's light or dark outside. Hell, I don't even know how long I've been in this damn hospital. It couldn't have been more than a day. I remember arriving here and being put in my room. Before that I remember the plane ride back to England. Before that I remember being in a different hospital.

But then things go blank.

I remember the accident. God, I remember the accident. I wish I could forget it. Like my mind was an etch a sketch and I could shake my head to erase the bad thoughts. That way I wouldn't have to keep remembering them over and over and over again every fucking waking minute. I can't get away from them. I thought I could. For the longest time, I thought I could. But I was wrong.

Louis, he was the one who kept all of these thoughts at bay.

I know you aren't supposed to rely on other people to keep you okay, because people and their thoughts and feelings are only temporary. They can just decide one day, that you're too much for them to handle; they can give up on you. But everything's temporary, isn't it. And Louis, he never gave up on me. God knows I've given him every reason I can think of to make him, but he's never once let me down.

I wish he wouldn't do that.

Sometimes I wish he was awful. I wish he would yell at me and call me names and be cold to me when I've done nothing wrong. And sometimes I wanted him to have a short temper with me and snap at me for no reason and I've wished that he would tell that I'm hopeless and a lost cause because then it would be easy not to love him. If Louis was this way he would've stopped caring about me so long ago. Then he wouldn't be in this now. His heart could be in someone else's hands. Someone who would've taken his advice and not gotten themselves in this situation in the first place.

This really is my fault, isn't it. 

Louis told me not to go the first time. I didn't listen to him and I got lucky. The only reason I can think of that I didn't die the first time I left was luck. Sheer luck. 

Louis told me not to go the second time. I didn't listen to him and I did not get lucky. I should be dead right now. If it was't for Louis I would wish I was dead right now. I never realized how nice it was to have the ability to talk and see and even just move. I took all of that being taken away from me to appreciate it. 

But dammit, whatever higher being is up there, if you could hear me now, I've learned my lesson. I would like my vision and general ability to move back now. 

Do you want to know the thing that sucks the most about all of this? I have too much time to think. It's the only thing I do all day, besides sleep. And it would be okay if Louis was the only one to run through my thoughts. I could spend the rest of my life completely content if the only thing I ever did was imagine the soft flicks of the end of his hair, and how he held his fork like it was a see-saw balancing between the fingers that slotted so lightly into my own. 

But no. Whenever I'm asleep my mind drifts into the dark places that I promised I'd never left myself go again. The images are so clear and crisp, everything sounds the same, the air tastes the same. It's so real. 

The only difference now is that I don't have anyone to wake me from night terrors. No one to pet my hair or rub my lower back and whisper soft words into my ears as I try to catch my breath and convince myself that what I just saw was only a flashback. 

Kids have it lucky you know? Most of them anyways. They get nightmares too, but the things they see are made up. Monsters, goblins, things underneath you're bed; they aren't real. But the things I see are. I know because I lived through them. And I want to forget them. 

He helped me with that. When I was with Louis, he distanced me from the things that tormented my mind.

But he isn't here anymore. I made him leave me, alone, and I have to fight battles myself now. It should be easy, considering all the walls I have built up around myself. They're so high, no one can be bothered to climb them. But there's one thing that scares me,

My walls are made of glass.


	4. Chapter 4

Flashback

Harry's POV

There are noises. All around me. Louis, firing of guns, banging of metal against metal. I need to move. I need to get away. But I'm frozen. Chaos is all around me, The air is thick with smoke and dust and I can feel it stick to the walls of my lungs as I take in laboured breaths. There are people here and they're shouting, but I can't make out what they are saying. All I can do is stand and feel the air cloud inside of my chest.

I've been here before.

3 months ago. I was in this exact same location, the air clouded my lungs then just as it is now.

But why am I here? I've been through this already. I fought this battle before. I came home.

I came home to Louis.

Louis. I don't know why my mind drifts to him, it always does though so I shouldn't be surprised. I should be focusing on this situation I'm in now, but I can't.

It's almost like I'm removed from it. Like I'm stuck inside of my body but I can't control my movements. It feels like someones hand are over my ears blocking the noise and everything is in slow motion. I remember everything. This. This is the moment I have relived so many times before. But that doesn't make each time any less terrible.

Suddenly the noises are more clear and things aren't in slow motion anymore. Like the hands have been lifted and I'm living through this again.

"Get down, Styles" someone yells.

I look in the direction of the yell and I see her.

She looks the same in ever dream I've ever had of this nightmare. She's a young girl, can't be more than 7 years old. Her skin is dark, blackened by soot in the air and the hardships she must've faced growing up in a place like this. Her eyes are like two brown marbles inside of her head. They are glassed over, but hold something hard in them. Her body may only be aged 7 years, but she's so much older than that. She was born into a place where childhood was not a luxury that was granted. In a way, she's more grown than I am.

But she's still a child. A child in the middle of a battlefield. Her cheeks are tear stained and she has small cuts and bruises all over her. I don't want to know the things she has lived through, fucking survived through. But she can't survive this.

Covering her torso is a vest. And on this vest are wires that lead to pouches that lead to more wires that lead to more pouches that lead to buttons that are blinking. I look at her face.

She knows.

She knows what this means. She knows what's going to happen to her, Hell, she's probably seen it happen to her friends. But the scary thing is, she looks ready, like she has already accepted this as her fate. Surely there are things worse than death, far worse than death. But ready to die, at the age of seven? I ask God everyday why she had to be born into a life like this. I don't ever get an answer.

"I said get down, Styles!" the voice calls again.

The hands are back over my ears things are in slow motion again. I turn back around and see all the soldiers covering their heads and dropping to the ground. I know these men. I grew up with most of them, graduated high school with them, they're my closest friends. And we've only grown closer since we enlisted together. I watch as one by one they hit the ground with solid thuds, urging me to do the same. But I'm still frozen. 

I turn my head back around to the girl and then it happens.

Imagine getting hit by the force behind a semi truck, full of bricks. That's what it felt like.

I was knocked off of my feet and thrown back a meters. Debris flies all around the air. Chunks of tires and wood and earth mix together in the air and converge into hugely dangerous clumps of projectile material. But I don't see that.

All I see is her eyes.

Her eyes. Her eyes. Her eyes! Her eyes! HER EYES! 

Louis' POV

"Wake up, Harry! Please wake up!" I yell frantically. Harry's trashing around the bed widely yelling something about eyes and he won't wake up and I'm scared and I don't know what to do.

I grab his shoulders and shake them as hard as I can without hurting him.

"Her eyes!" he yells "Her eyes!"

Harry's eyes snap open and he sits up.

He's breathing is rapid and all out of place, like he can't watch it. His torso is slick with sweat and I can see him shaking, even though I'm sitting at the end of the bed. His hair is all over the place and his gaze is wild.

I stare at him, and he at me. Only he's not looking at me. He's looking through me.

"Harry-" I begin.

But then Harry does something that I'd never seen him do before.

He sobs.

Not cry. Not weep. He sobs. 

Every part of his body sobs. His shoulders fall and he back hunches forward. He grabs his knees and pulls them up to his chest so he can bury his face in them, and he sobs.

Loud, angry, ugly sobs. 

I rush over to him and reach out to stroke his cheek.

His head shoots up and he flinches backwards, away from my touch.

His gaze is still wild and his eyes glassed over, but this time I think he finally sees me.

"Lou" he croaks and my god I've never heard a voice that sounded so broken.

"Come here" I commend and he does.

Harry crawls into my lap and though he's so much taller than me, he's never seemed so small.

He buries his head in my bare chest and I wrap my arms around him, pulling as close as I possibly can. His hot breath pants against my skin and I can feel the tears. I put one hand on the small of his back and the other massages his scalp as I try desperately to clam down.

"Her eyes, Lou" he says over and over and over.

"Who's eyes, Harry"

Then I realize.

When Harry returned home from the war, he spoke of it only once. Not even directly to me. He wrote things down in his journal he keeps in our bedroom. He's let me read it before. Usually it's dumb little doodles or song lyrics of poems. But not that time.

He described in vivid detail the horrors he witnessed. I remember how my stomach fell when i read that entry. He never spoke of any other memory. Just her eyes and how they held no innocence that a 7 year old child's eyes' should have. It gutted me.

That's what he was dreaming of.

Her.

I look back down at this broken boy in my arms. I pepper kisses on top of his head and rub my hand down his bareback and his sobs become softer. I want to help him. But I don't know where to begin.

How do you kiss a person who is broken everywhere?

I make a promise to myself. I'll never leave this boy unless he tells me to. No matter how dark things get. No matter how much he yells or I scream, I won't leave ever. 

Slowly Harry's grip on me loosens , I hadn't realizes he was holding me so hard. Slowly I lay him back down under on his side of the bed and pull the covers up around both of us. I scoot over as close to him as I can and he attaches onto me again, gripping me just as hard as he was before, but I don't mind. Because right now he needs me and I want to help him. He falls asleep still clutched onto me and I soon fall asleep to the constant steady sound of his heartbeat. 

When I wake up in the morning I have fingertip shaped bruises on my arms.


End file.
